The World of the Walking Dead
by XxSkyheartxX
Summary: Mia, a zombie apocalypse survivor, meets up with a group and runs face to face into a guy named Domenic. Together, along with the group, they try to survive and hopefully find a cure to the apocalypse. OC/OC


Disclaimer: I only own the characters, not the settings

I felt myself floating, fading. The ground above and below was pitch black, except for a small light that shined at the very top. My arm and hand outstretched and exposed to the blinding light. I tried to reach for it, but couldn't move. "What the hell?" words I tried to speak but couldn't hear my voice. My body felt numb and cold. Was this hell? Was this my punishment for something I'd done in another life? Suddenly I felt like I was falling, I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. Open mouthed and in horror, my body turned and I fell back into the deeper darkness.

I woke up, screaming and clutching the sheets around me, feeling my heart beating out of my chest. I breathed heavily and looked around, wide-eyed. Breathing slower, I calmed myself and noticed the familiarity of the lightened room around. It was composed of white painted walls, plain and ordinary. The wall was bare all except for an illustrated picture of a horse grazing. With deep depression, I realized this wasn't my room, it was simply a house I had found whilst exploring. My hiking backpack sat slumped against the snowy painted wall creating a spot of dark against pure white. Grabbing the sheets and flinging out of bed, I grabbed it and quickly checked it, afraid of losing anything. I sighed in relief, glad that everything was where I'd left it. I grabbed the .44 Magnum that lay in a pouch on the side and quickly stuffed it in my back pocket. The pack was heavy against my spine as I carried it over my back.

Heading out the bedroom door, the hallway mirror startled me as a familiar pale-faced girl met my light blue eyes. Her once slightly tanned skin was a chalky white, losing its color over the years. Her long dark hair faded behind her back, ending at the shoulder. Wincing in disgust at my personal appearance, I quickly put my hair up into a bun and headed down the stairs, distantly reminiscing about the ghostly girl.

The cherry colored wood floor was cold on my bare feet. It squeaked and groaned in protest as I walked across it towards my shoes. Picking up the large, dark brown-laced boots, I sat on the ground and quickly slipped them on and tied the long laces. I stood back up again and crept over to the door, placing an ear on it as I listened for the scratching, or perhaps even moaning. Hearing nothing, and gently opening the door I walked out, blinking and squinting as the bright sunlight greeted my eyes.

Then, I saw it. One of _them. _It shuffled its crooked feet towards me, making a small hissing noise, one arm outstretched. The other arm lay broken and twisted by its side, waving back and forth. I noticed it was dragging one of its deformed feet, probably hit by a car at one point. The walker's eyes were glazed over, an icy shade that you could never forget. Its pointed teeth began gnawing in anticipation, ready to dig into my warm flesh at any point.

Out of habit, I quickly placed my hand behind my back feeling the edge of the revolver; I let my hand grasp the handle tightly. In a swift movement the revolver was out of my back pocket and pointed at the walkers head. It hissed louder in response, continuing to shuffle forward. The edge of my thumb rested on the edge of the hammer. I pushed it down, cocking the gun. The walker got another step in before I pulled the trigger, the bullet going through its head and chunks of flesh flying out the back. It fell backwards; a puddle of thick red liquid began to form around its head. With a disgusted face, I placed the .44 Magnum back into my back pocket and stepped around the corpse, continuing forward.

The neighborhood was large and ordinary. Similar tinted houses with not a space separating them lined the streets, cars destroyed and parts spread every which way along the road. I gripped the edge of a car roof and pulled myself up, going up and around the blockage in the center of the road. Sliding off the side of the roof, I glanced behind making sure nothing was following me. The world as I once knew wasn't the same. This new world was depressing, death around every corner, people killing each other, and fighting over the smallest things.

A car alarm startled me out of my daydreams. Glancing around I spotted the car that was making the wretched sound. I jogged over to the worn down Honda Civic, opened up the door and bent down. A bunch of wires were jumbled everywhere, going in different directions. _One of them has to turn off this damn annoying alarm_. I backed out of the driver side of the silver car and placed my backpack down, quickly searching for my pocketknife. The glint of a reflection caught my eye and I reached down, swearing as the side of the blade nicked my palm, a sliver of red liquid ran down my wrist and down my arm, dampening my denim jacket sleeve. I gripped the knife and flung myself back into the driver side of the car. Grabbing one of the red wires, I sliced my knife through it and cut, a spark flew then rapidly disappeared. The alarm stopped and I sighed in relief.

A few moans came from a nearby alley making me turn and glance over in the general direction, spotting the few walkers. Their torn clothes and film covered eyes made my skin crawl. I shivered and gulped. I had to get out and get out fast. Throwing the knife into the backpack, I tossed it into the passenger side of the car before climbing in after. I bent down once again and fiddled with the wires, trying to start the car. The engine wouldn't ignite as the starter kept revving. I hoped and hoped; murmuring stuff underneath my breath, hoping the car would start. Finally the car roared to life. There was only a bit of gas in it. I had been so distracted by trying to get the car to start that I hadn't noticed the walkers approaching the car, one of them startling me by pounding on the window, pressing its teeth against the glass, making a nails on chalkboard sound. I screamed and put the car into reverse, going backwards then slamming down on the gas. I sped away, out of breath, sweat forming on my forehead. I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the neighborhood fade into the distance.

2


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